A Smaller Target

Fitday & Hostess: WTF?

Weight: 195

Log into Fitday to record food / protein.

Cue ghostly fading in of cream-filled cakes both below and to the right of the journal feature.  Have them repeat at every new screen.

3 cakes = 100 calories. 

Wonderful.

This new relationship is not helping my carb issues.  What's next Fitday?  Ads for diet Snicker bars? 

Thoughts anyone?

Added 7/17/08: Alison is right in her second reply.  Below is a screen shot of my journal entry page as of this morning (you can click on it for a larger version).  The words "not really helpful" do leap to mind. 

For anyone about to helpfully suggest I consider paying for Fitday's software so I don't have to put up with any ads, let me just say I'd love to and have twice tried to do so.  Unfortunately, as they told me 3 years ago, Fitday doesn't think writing a version of their software for the macintosh is worthwhile as "such a small number of people" use them.  I think I know all of you.  Much as I like Fitday, I don't think they're worth breaking off my 22 year relationship with my macs.

Okay, enough.  Grumpy is going to get some iced coffee and a walk.

Blimey! England in August

Weight: 193

You know how it is.  The exchange rate dollar to pound is worse than it been for most of my lifetime.  Airfares at record highs.  And August is high season for travel to the UK.  What does this mean? 

Paul and I are going, of course.  The reasons are involved, but they have to do with his family.  I was dreading the trip at first, mostly for the expense but also because of the time involved.  Now that we have tickets ($1400 RT by STA on Air New Zealand and trust me that was the best fare by far) and are starting to make plans, I'm feeling really excited about it. 

The trip's coming up fast too.  We'll be gone for two weeks (that's all I can be away) from August 5 - 19.

Oh, and the little video below was one that made me laugh so hard that iced freedom bag water almost came out my nose.  It would have, except I wasn't drinking at the time.  (A side note is that it's filmed all around West LA so I was busy noticing what locations were used when.)  Enjoy!

http://view.break.com/530967 - Watch more free videos

Normal For Norwich?

And now for some news from our friends across the sea.  In the Daily Telegraph today, an article about a 19 year old girl who found a bat in her bra. 

"In her bra" as in "in the bra" she was currently wearing.   At work. 

Abbie Hawkins, a hotel receptionist, thought her mobile phone was ringing when she felt vibrations coming from her clothes.

But she later discovered the tiny creature tucked away in the padded pocket of her underwear.

As staff and colleagues crowded around, Miss Hawkins, 19, produced the frightened bat, which was the size of her hand.

Yeah. 

I once had a cockroach on my foot at work, but this definitely trumps it.  Young Abbey seems very kind hearted as well, commenting that

"Once I realised it was a bat I was shocked, but then I felt quite sorry for it really.
It looked very snug in there and I thought how mean I was for disturbing it."

I'm not sure what I'd do if I found a flying rodent in my bra, but I suspect I wouldn't spend time feeling guilty about removing it.  If my reaction to the roach is any indication, I'd be too busy screaming.

If it's Tuesday...

Weight: 193.4

... I should try and answer some of the questions so kindly asked in the comments. 

• Many thanks to everyone for the good wishes.  It's true, I was down for a while.  I'm not anymore.  In fact, quite the opposite, despite the lithium. 
• Alison and *S*: I'm still afraid about the loss of both productivity and general brightness with the taking of medication, but I've promised myself to try it for a year (assuming it remains a good medical choice). The fact is, even not feeling especially smart, I seem to be able to work, something which was impossible for months.  As I've thought about my past more over the last few months, I've realized that my highs are associated with some behaviors that make me cringe even to remember let alone talk about.  Basically I'm trying to do what I'm told here and not think about it too much.  Easier said than done and all that.
• *S* - I like Power Crunch bars more due to their texture because they're structured like a wafer cookie rather than a big chewy blob.  Cinnamon roll isn't my favorite flavor (that would probably be strawberry cream or vanilla) but isn't bad.  The protein in them comes from whey not soy so they'd probably be okay for you in that sense. GNC carries them (at least the ones in Oregon and California do) so you might want to pick a couple up before deciding you want .  We're all different, but they do work for me.
• About Theo:  I am going to talk to Dr. Friend and ask that Theo be sent home should he not be interesting to the child anymore.  I've also had the offer of another Theo (who had been a gift to Harriet) but I think she needs a bite-y T-Rex as much as I do.  Finally, as Paul mentioned to me after reading my post, I do have a female version (a T-Rex named Dora) so even if Theo doesn't return, I'm not without an attack dino when one  is needed.
• Finally -- I'm back from Portland.  My dad has gone from getting ~14 mpg to getting ~27-30mpg. 

And that's about it.  Did I miss anything?

PS.  I love the idea of everyone getting a Vespa.  Me, I'm looking for the perfect bike.  I suspect when I find it, it will be orange.

Unexpected Road Trip

I'm probably going to be quiet for a couple of days.  I'm taking a weekend road trip with my dad from LA to Portland leaving this afternoon.  We'll be back Sunday night.

He's somewhat impulsively decided to sell his Tahoe and get a smaller car.  Because the truck is still registered in Portland, they still officially live there and Oregon has no sales tax, it makes sense to him to take the truck up there and buy the car up there.  Plus he'll get to spend the holiday weekend with my mother. 

Great, but the trip is 16 hours each way.  That's a long way to drive alone and the idea of him doing it was freaking my mom out.   Me too actually when I heard about it.  In a perfect world Paul or my brother could go and share the driving.  We don't live in a perfect world and work keeps either of them from being able to sign onto this adventure.  I don't drive but I can go and be a good passenger.  So that's what I'm doing.  After work today, Sacramento here I come.  W00T!

And no, I'm not just doing this because I'm a good daughter.  I'm doing it partly because this impulsive decision is my fault at least in part (though I haven't told my mother).  You see, when he and I were walking on Santa Monica Pier Sunday, I mentioned that my very small carbon footprint (I take the bus and walk everywhere) probably means our family is breaking even despite his 14 mile per gallon gas guzzler.   

Yeah.

I'll have to remember that he listens to me sometimes.  O the power!

Childishly heartbroken

Weight: 196

The question "what's really bothering you?" springs to mind.

Last night I had dinner with my closest friend from graduate school (though she's Dr. Friend now having already completed her PhD) and her small son. She and her family are headed to Chicago for her first professional position. I'm thrilled for her -- it's a great job.


Anyway, last night they came over to our apartment after we'd eaten. I was doing my best to amuse her small son (our apartment isn't the most kid-friendly place) by pulling out whatever (vanilla) toys I could find. When they left, I gave him all sorts of cheap plastic toys I'd collected via McD's Happy Meals. He was beyond excited by them and I was pleased to see them go.

And then he asked if he could have Theo. Theo is my plastic bite-y T-Rex dinosaur. He's from the Natural History Museum in London and I tend to use him (at least in my imagination) to attack those who thwart me. I've had him for 5 years. On the other hand, the child asking is four years old, has a father who's been unexpectedly away for two weeks due to a family emergency and had just this past week had to see all his things including toys, packed up and shipped away in a truck to some place he's never been. So of course I said he could have it. I was glad to give it.

Except I woke up this morning feeling deeply sad about the loss of Theo.

Huh?

My only hope is that I'm really mourning the loss of my dear friend who's moving away. I think that's the case. I couldn't really care this much about a plastic dinosaur head on a stick.

Could I?

Product Alert: Power Crunch Sale!

Weight: 195.2

When I went to All Star Heath to order a couple months worth of my favorite calcium, I noticed that the Cinnamon Roll flavor of Power Crunch bars is currently on sale. And I do mean sale as the price for a box of twelve is currently $4.50.

This price is due to them having a sell by date of 7/24 -- but as I keep mine in the freezer anyway, that's fine by me. They're pretty yummy.

(By the way, I like buying with All-Star Health because their shipping charge is only $5.95 however much you order. Good deal!)

Okay, so I'm back

Weight: 197 (ouch!)

What's happened? Too much to discuss in one entry for sure. Details will emerge (or not) as the blog turns.

A very short summery is that I had a depressive episode that lasted much of October through March -- the longest and deepest period of depression I've ever experienced. There were some up days, but generally it was like being trapped in an abyss. By the time it finally started to end, I'd all but given up hope that it would ever end. At the time I knew I needed help, but I also knew that it was all I could do to just keep going to work and keep my life together. I also ate a lot of sugar, gave up exercise, got behind on vitamins and basically let a lot of things fall all to hell. Therefore I'm up 30 pounds. I did get as high as 202. Ugh.

Since the depression ended or rather ebbed, I've seen a psychiatrist at my university's hospital. He's great and has helped a lot. He's also diagnosed me as bipolar. This wasn't a surprise -- I think I've known for years and just been resisting believing anyone else could tell. To be honest, I feel like I'm only smart when I'm in a manic period and I worry that without those times I won't be able to get any work done. I'm on lithium now and still afraid. But I also can't bear to go through that sort of depression again.

I'm also really, really tired of seeing doctors. I wrote the following for somewhere else about just this problem.

-----

I'm tired of talking about me.

I should qualify that statement a bit -- don't get me wrong. I find myself utterly fascinating. After all, I spend a lot of time with me. I write about me (what else is blogging after all?). I sometimes meet friends for coffee and talk about myself at least some of the time (at least during the time we're not talking about their children).

So what do I mean?

Basically I'm complaining about having to go to the doctor. Or rather, about going to doctors for the first time. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I've been seeing a psychiatrist. He's great -- I like him a lot. But he's not a long term therapist. Rather, he's the one who's diagnosed me (bipolar I with anxiety disorder in case you're keeping track) and keeps track of my lithium dosage and blood readings.* Anyway, he's been great and wants me to find a therapist. Ever the obedient patient, I determined to do as told.

However, rather than just taking a referral, I decided it would be far easier to use the student counseling services on campus. This would mean, thought I, that I could just go to therapy once a week on my lunch hour. So I made an appointment (explaining the situation on the phone to the intake person), filled out yet another pile o' forms with statements about my feelings, past treatments, family history and the like. When I got to the office yesterday, I was met with yet another pile of forms. This is a university and I work here so I knew better than to argue. I just filled the damn things out out and turned them in.

My next step was a meeting with Rebecca, a graduate psych student doing clinical practice (like, she'd be practicing on me). That's cool, she seemed nice enough. We went through 45 minutes of discussion about why I was there, questions about my history, my goals and then my feelings. I had no thoughts for her on my feelings -- I felt fine (other than being a little hungry due to the lack of lunch).

Then she started talking in that very gentle, I-hope-you're-not-going-to-be-angry-or-melt-down way. Rebecca told me she wanted to refer me off campus to a counseling psychiatrist or psychologist. That the center now had a policy of only doing 12 sessions with any student in a given year and she felt I'd be better off with someone who I could see in an on-going fashion without needing to worry about running into the that limit. Plus, since I have a medical diagnosis of a specific disorder, there would be no problem with insurance coverage even off campus. As I listened, I wasn't in danger of melting down, but my first thought was "damn, I so don't want to introduce myself again."

There's nothing for it of course. She's right -- a private therapist is definitely the way to go. Before anyone says it, I know I'm really fortunate. I live in Santa Monica where there's no shortage of mental health professionals and I'll be able to take my pick. My insurance coverage as a student is good. Pablo's coverage as a university employee is even better. But even when I'm feeling good, this sort of intake is agony. I hate talking to strangers**, especially about myself. Especially about what's going on in my head, which is my own private domain. I keep myself feeling safe a lot of times by making sure to let people talk about themselves and not talking about the things that I feel are private and important to me. I'm not just introverted -- most of the time I'm shy too.

This blog entry is just a little whine, there's nothing for it and the appointments will have to be made. I'm just glad that I won't get the referrals until Thursday. With the Friday holiday that means the earliest I can even start making appointments is July 7.

---

*this is apparently very important as there's a rather fine line between the therapeutic and toxic blood level of lithium. Knowing this does not help with my anxiety issues, but the lithium does seem to be a helpful mood stabilizing drug.

**writing to strangers in a blog is apparently a completely different matter.

Not Dead Yet

...and I will begin blogging again very soon. Tonight was spent deleting much comment spam -- mostly about gay porn for reasons that bemuse me.

Thanks to everyone for the good wishes expressed here and via email.

What do I feel?

This should be an entry to remind myself that at 40 I should know better than to try and set between friends who are either disagreeing or don't like each other.  Especially when I don't know what's going on.  The only thing both people could end up agreeing on is that I should mind my own business.

Why I apparently don't know better and keep making the mistakes the got me in trouble in junior high, why I need everyone around me to get along and to love me are questions that will probably take the next 40 years to resolve. 

I can't muse on my crazy insecurities today. 

Today I'm at work, working in bursts because the mindlessness of my job makes it an easy place to hide..

Today I've turned off my phones and am ignoring my email.

Today I'm trying to find the courage to walk into my boss's office and tell her about the call I just got from my mom.  But I can't do it.  That call which I should have been expecting has somehow ripped a hole in me.   

My grandmother is dying.  She's been going by inches for the past year, but her inches are running out.  At 101 her life is terrible -- even the smallest acts of independence are being stripped away while her mind has stayed horribly alert and aware of every loss.  Over the past year, as it's become clear my nana can never get well, can only decline, I've hoped and prayed for her to pass peacefully.  Dying peacefully is the right thing for me to want here and the kindest and most merciful outcome.  I know this.

But I don't want it and so maybe I haven't really prayed for either.  I'm selfish and I don't want to let her go.  At the worst moments of my life, childhood and adulthood, she's been there for me, making me feel loved as unconditionally as it would be possible for anyone to be.  Her very existence and love for me saved my life, not just once but repeatedly, including one time when I was 10 years old and she confronted my parents about their abuse of me and threatened to take me away from them. 

When I was a child and she was taking care of me, I worried often that she would die.  Back then, 70 seemed very old and she used to play a bit with guilt, telling me when I rolled my eyes at being told to push my bangs out of my face when I read or not to bite my nails that I wouldn't have her to bother me much longer.  One summer when I was 11, the thought of losing her made me burst into tears and in comforting me she swore she would be here with me as long as I needed her. 

That's right.  She loved me me so much and was so distressed at having hurt me by her teasing she swore not to leave until I was sure I could let her go. 

My nana is in Portland -- more than a 1000 miles away from me.  Her weight down to 65 pounds.  She has cancer that's spread throughout her body and for which there is no treatment.  Her younger sister and older brother are both dead now.  Last summer my grandfather, her husband of 70 years, died and left her alone to mourn him.  My mom told me today Nana can't hold down food or water.

She has always been safety and home to me and soon  I have to travel north to say goodbye.  Somehow very soon I have to let her know it's okay for her to go, that I'll be fine.

But I don't believe it.  And selfishly in my heart, however much she wants and needs to go, I don't want her to leave.

After So Long

...I'm writing a post about almost nothing.

First off, I'm so sorry for worrying anyone and so humbled by the fact you would be worried.  I'm fine.  Nuts, not in a bad way, but fine.  I didn't intend it to happen this way,  but I must have needed some time away from the 'net.  Also, the longer I was away, the harder it was to figure out what to say when I came back.

I wish I had time to write a full update, but it would probably be quite boring.

Highlights:

• Brother is getting married in two weeks.
• Turned 40.
• Got an orange iPod shuffle for my birthday.
• Am lusting after the iPhone.
• Father is now working most of the time in Los Angeles and staying with P and me during the week.
• Parents house is on the market.
• Rejoined the gym and am struggling back to working out on a regular basis.
• Work has been insanely busy.
• Am running the summer short story contest for soc.sexuality.spanking (the group where P and I met).
• Have gained back what weight I lost immediately post op from the tummy tuck.
• Have become addicted to Pinkberry (I suspect this may bear some responsiblity for the above).
• A metal staple worked its way out of my new belly button.
• Discovered today the the surgeon who took over at USC from Dr. Kauffman has gone on indefinite leave and I'm now one of Dr. Crooke's patients (hey, at least I'm in good company).

So there you have it.  Nothing wrong except that I'm a flake.  Thanks for caring.

Due Consideration

Yeah, this is going to be a rant.  It's been building for a while.  You have been warned.

Lately lack of consideration has been bothering me.  Maybe it's the fact it's almost summertime or something, but it sure feels like there's been more than usual. 

Some examples?

• Heidi and the Wooden Shoes: The guy who lives upstairs has a girlfriend (yay for him) who stays over sometimes every night.  How do I know this?  Not because I'm the sort of neighbor who peeks through lace curtains to note the gossip-y comings and goings of those living around me.  No, really I'm not!  I know because she runs stomps up and down the stairs wearing wooden shoes.  Seriously, she couldn't make more noise if she tried -- it's damn impressive especially on the days I've noted that she's wearing running shoes.   Maybe I'm more sensitive to this one because when I weighed 200 pounds more than I do now I worried a lot about Being The Fat Girl and Making Too Much Noise when I walked.   So how much does la chica weigh?  Mayby 110.  And that would be after a heavy dinner.  So why haven't I talked to her about  it?  Because she seems really nice.  Seriously, this has been going on for a year now and I feel like if I tell her she'll be embarrassed to know she's been bugging us for this long.  Paul thinks I may be wrong for assuming she'd care.
• Graduate students who come in at 4:55 PM with either very complex problems or "issues."  What is wrong with these people? Did no one ever tell them that when they're coming to an office to ask for favors and special help it's a good idea not to do it when people are trying to either leave for the day (hello? We close at 5 -- how many offices on campus have you noticed open until 7?) or have lunch.  Today I had a sign up on my office door "at lunch, back shortly" which did not stop three different people from knocking.  How do I know this?  I was inside trying to choke down my tuna salad. 
• Hot Flash Woman: She gets on the bus at the very last stop before we get on the Santa Monica freeway.  The bus is snug and filled with about 100 people, many reading and getting ready for their work day.  She rants (seriously) at anyone who happens to be using their phone (I don't do it, but hey I don't care what anyone else does) and then sits down, generally somewhere near me (why I don't know).  She then starts fanning herself and opens the window.  Okay, it may be summertime, but we're in June gloom here people.  It's like 55 degrees in the morning.  She then throws open the window.  People start to shiver, pull on sweaters and the like.  One older man has the gall to ask her to please close the window -- we're on the freeway and it's freezing.  She refuses stating "I'm hot." In the words of the young man near me "that's what you think lady."

I know there's more.  Lots more.  But I can't remember them now.  Feh!

About Andrea

[I wrote this just after my DS surgery for another blog.  Since I've been having a tough time putting content up here, I thought this might be fun to read.  Especially since, in its own way, this entry is about weight and feminism.]

Sorry friends, I've been away... surgery and recovery requiring the watching of a full season of 24 to bring me back to health. 

Anyway, A. wrote me last week to ask if I was going to blog about Andrea Dworkin.  Until then  I hadn't really thought about it, even though twenty years ago I would have named Dworkin (and even more so radical feminists Catharine Mackinnon and Audre Lorde) as having inspired me to read feminism and identify as a feminist.  I'm not sure who first called her the Malcolm X of the women's movement, but it was a great line  -- Malcolm X said the problem was "white people" -- Dworkin said the problem was "men."  She was able to inspire and bluntly name names.

More than that though, as Susie Bright writes in her own blog entry about Dworkin, as someone coming of age in the 1980s, Andrea Dworkin and Catharine Mackinnon were the first women to look at pornography and erotica (not that they would have made a fine distinction between the two) with a critical eye.  It existed for them -- they showed clips in classes.  True, they showed it as examples of women being degraded by men (and they frequently were) and exploited, but they showed it.  I found it brilliant and so clear when they wrote (and said, for I heard both speak live several times in the 1980s when I was an undergraduate) that one of the reasons men were able to rape women and get away with it was that (heterosexual) sex was always assumed to be consensual.  They then posed the opposite question -- what if it was assumed to be rape until the man proved otherwise (quotes that were so often misused to claim both women saw all sex as rape).  Then, they argued, rape trials could be about the man's actions rather than the women's history.

I broke intellectually with both as I tried to make sense of my own desires (especially the ones connected to BDSM) and found the framework both writers created to be limiting -- in the manner of a young girl thinking about her heroes and wanting their approval, I would imagine sometimes how horrified they'd be (especially Dworkin with her history as an abused wife) with my embracing masochism.  I went on to discover Dorothy Allison and found a new way to think about my sexuality and desires.  And slowly over the last decade I've come to see these first feminist writers of mine as part of an earlier, more naive feminism. Something I've outgrown.

But of course, what's been lost in this more subtle, nuanced feminism is the ability to hear someone  bold.  My favorite Dworkin moment was the story of her longtime rivalry with Allen Ginsberg, who apparently said (I've always imagined) pompously "you know, the Right wants me in jail."  Dworkin supposedly responded, "yes, I know. They're so sentimental.  I'd kill you."  Where are the women now pointing out sexism?  I feel sometimes like we've all become so timid. Afraid, perhaps, of being labeled naive ourselves.

Or worse.

When I'd listen to people (actually, mainly male professors and their students) raging against Mackinnon and Dworkin's writings (and, as often, things neither had actually written, but thoughts that were attributed to them anyway), it was horrifying how often Dworkin's appearance was used to explain her being "anti-male".  She was "fat" and "hairy" and so interested in rape because no man would ever want her.  I remember pointing out to a male undergrad who commented that Dworkin was utterly undesirable and that it was impossible to imagine any man might be attracted to her, that (at the time) she'd lived with the same man for close to 20 years, he refused to believe me until what I'd told him was confirmed by one of our professors.  Mackinnon, on the other hand, was considered "almost pretty" by our classmates and that seemed, somehow, to make her support of Dworkin's theories incomprehensible. 

I've wondered sometimes how much fear of being called feminist that vilification of Dworkin created.  interestingly, Dworkin is blamed for that too -- basically for daring to be fat and ungroomed in the public eye.  For being an icon of feminism and not being beautiful.   Who are we left with?  Naomi Wolfe?  Camila Paglia?  Feh!

I know who I'd rather read or listen to, however much her inflexibility might anger me.

For all that they might well have disagreed with where my feminism has led me, and even more so for the choices I've embraced in my sexuality, I mourn the passing of Andrea Dworkin as I did that of Audre Lorde.  There is a beauty in the radical.  And, Andrea had something far more important than a perfect body.  She had a brilliant mind and a quick wit and the world is poorer for her loss.

The Three Things Meme

Sorry it's been so quiet here.  I started a blog entry about this the other day, but quit part way through.  I'll be trying to work on something about it over the next few days. 

But anyway, on to today's meme...

Three Things That Scare Me:

1. seagulls
2. thunder
3. small enclosed spaces

Three People Who Make Me Laugh:

1. Paul
2. my brother
3. George Carlin

Three Things I Love:

1. Katamari (because everybody love Katamari)
2. Doctor Who
3. QI and News Quiz

Three Things I Hate/Severely Dislike:

1. spam
2. being lied to
3. beets

Three Things I Don’t Understand:

1. logarithms
2. where May went
3. cruelty

Three Things On My Desk:

1. a cup of water
2. a reporter's notebook
3. a pencil

Three Things I’m Doing Right Now:

1. blogging
2. evesdropping
3. waiting for 5pm so I can go home.

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

1. live a long time
2. travel everywhere (yeah, I know, but the list is too long)
3. finish my PhD.

Three Things I Can Do:

1. read on the bus (seems minor but impresses Paul).
2. make pavlova
3. italic lettering

Three Things I Can’t Do:

1. math
2. spelling
3. clean things as I go

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:

1. good music however you define it.
2. people you love.
3. your heart.

Three Things You Should Never Listen To:

1. anyone who wants you to do something in God's name.
2. anyone who makes you feel less than you are.
3. Fox News.

Three Things I’d Like To Learn:

1. organization / time management
2. rollerblading
3. dancing

Three Favorite Foods:

1. Pho
2. kettlecorn
3. sashimi

Three Shows I Watched As A Kid:

1. Sesame Street
2. Muppet Show
3. Little House on the Prairie

Three Things I Regret:

1. - 3.  times I've been too afraid to do what I really wanted to.

Useless Technology

My university and the office I work for in my university have an addiction to technology. 

Seriously.

Sometimes it's nice.   My chair, for example, is perfect and comfortable.  My monitor is large with a flat bright screen. 

Sometimes it's lame.  My keyboard is high tech wireless with music control buttons and knobs, but no light to show you the "cap lock" button is depressed (nice one Dell dude).   This is not a laptop, but a desk system.  So what, you ask is the point of a wireless keyboard?

Oh, it gets better.  I also have a wireless mouse.  Which sits pretty much exactly on the same spot (okay, totally exactly) where the old wired mouse sat.  It works just exactly the same too -- point, scroll, click.  Except about every two weeks when it doesn't click anymore.

Why?  Because about every two weeks its batteries --2 double AA ones-- die.  When that happens, after first having a moment of panic that my screen has frozen, I then have to get up, take my mouse to the "battery monitor", wait while new batteries are retrieved, install them, go back to my desk, reset the mouse and continue working.

Except today a new step was added.  We now have a 2 gallon white hazardous waste bucket in which we've been told dispose of the batteries.  Because (the office manager told me in smuggest tones) we're being green about disposing of batteries in a responsible way.

Excuse me?  We're greener now than we were when our mice didn't use batteries at all?

My wireless mouse: a bit of useless technology.

Small Kindnesses

I used to be a really good student.  I'm not especially smarter than average, maybe even below average for a PhD student, but I was a really good student.  The sort that does extra work, not for praise, or at least not just for praise, but because I loved the work and was really excited about it.  This isn't especially unusual either, I suspect.  Why else would someone work in literature after all?

Then my personal life fell apart and got put back together in a much happier way (divorce, romance, second marriage).  And then I got sick and sicker and sicker. Drugs.  Anxiety.  Therapy. Surgery.  And then I got better and better and better.  More surgery.

In the meantime, the university forced me to take my quals.  I passed. And then a whole lot of nothing. 

Last Spring / Summer? Maybe 20 pages of dissertation.  And a plan to finish in a year or so.

This Fall / Spring?  Another 65.  And a plan to finish in a year.

And, of course, meantime noises about graduate students taking too long to complete.  Them being pushed out.  I feared being told much the same.

Yesterday I swallowed my pride and wrote emails to my department's Graduate Director (Professor K) and my own dissertation chair (Professor M).  Professor K emailed me back at once wanting to see me today.  I panicked, but made the meeting, armed only with a realistic completion plan and my trusty draft chapters..

It was wonderful. Professor K was nothing but supportive and encouraging.  Glad I was working away and happy I'd come to see him.  He advised me to meet with my chair, Professor M, as soon as possible. 

After I left his office, I noticed the door to Professor M's office was open and stuck my head in.  I introduced myself (she didn't recognize me and mistook me for a text book rep) and we hugged.  She had a meeting to rush off to, but we met for a few minutes, arranged a meeting for tomorrow afternoon and I walked back to my office. 

Suddenly I'm a PhD candidate in good standing again.   And apparently have been all along.

Who knew?

A Five Day Week

I'm up and about and waiting for my morning lift to campus.  She sees to be running a bit late -- another few minutes and I'll be calling to check what's up. 

This morning my weight was 174.  This is high, but not as high as it was over the weekend when it topped out at 178.  Did I panic?  Oh, just a bit.  Ironically it kept going up for a few days AFTER I cut back on my carbs last week.   I'm trying to see  this for what it  no doubt is, feedback for not eating right for a month, all catching up with me.  But it's still terrifying.  I'd like to see my weight get down into the 150s despite what my surgeon talked about in terms of goal weight mostly so that it going up 10 pounds is less frightening.  But first things first.  I need to get it back to 165.

The ironic thing I think is that the weight, some of which was my period bloat, makes no difference in my clothes except for my bras (they fit better when my breasts are fuller).  I'm not sure what that means, probably that my jeans are all a little too big, but it does make it harder to use my clothes as a guide for how my weight is doing. 

Anyway, I'm mostly through the hard days of getting off carbs.  The trick will be staying off them at work.  Because work is where I'm going to be spending most of the coming week.  I'm working my campus job today, Tuesday and Thursday, Friday, with a train trip up to UCSB to see a friend who's in from England on Wednesday.  My plan right now is to stay the night up there and then come back at the crack o' dawn on the Thursday morning train and then go straight into work.

It'll be strange not spending at least one day working at home this week.  I have to remind myself that most people actually work out of the their houses five days a week.  It's been a very long time since I've done that, spoiled creature that I am. 

The weekend was fun.  We went to see Hot Fuzz Friday night.  It was great.  Not quite as good as Shaun of the Dead, probably because I knew what to expect this time, but fun none the less.  The theater was crowded and it seemed a good time was being had by all. 

Yesterday Paul went out early and got us tickets for the LA Times Festival of Books.  I've only been once before, but it's a very cool event each year.   I can't remember all the tickets he picked out, but I know we've got them to hear Paul Conrad and that he got me one for Walter Mosely.  As to the rest, well we'll just have to see. 

Thinking About VA Tech

My heart goes out to the VA Tech students, faculty, staff and their families. 

I'm a graduate student and work on a university campus about the same size as VA Tech.  I also used to supervise one of the larger campus residence halls.  This situation is horrifying partly because I can't imagine a simple way such an act could be prevented.

To those who can't understand how two hours could pass between the shootings without the campus having been evacuated between, I'd ask that you imagine the university as a community the size of a medium sized town -- we're talking maybe 35,000 people who live, work and/or go to school there.  The hour the first of these shootings happened would be just at a time when the school's administration would be on their way to campus.  Meantime everyone is arriving for morning classes. 

By the time the police figured out what had happened at the dorms, classes had already started across the campus. 

I'm not saying that everything was handled perfectly -- I imagine there will be plenty of room for hindsight and re-evaluation -- but I don't imagine my own campus would have responded more effectively.  We're just not built with the idea of being under siege.  Maybe that's been all of our mistakes. 

Such a grim thought.

Carb Loading?

Weight: 170

Okay, the only way I can explain the way I've been eating this past week is as some sort of experiment.  Clearly I've been trying to see what will happen if I eat as many simple carbs as possible.  As it's considered good form in science to share your results, here's what I've discovered.

• painful gas.  Not just once in a while, but if I eat simple carbs I can have it constantly.
• smelly gas.  Yeah, and it smells bad too.
• bowel movements.  Lots and not comfortable either.
• hunger.  I'm feeling much hungrier much more often. 
• itchiness.  Carbs definitely make my eczema worse.
• tiredness.  I'm sleeping a lot more and finding it harder and harder to wake up each day. 

Okay, so with this assortment of symptoms, giving up the simple carbs must be an easy choice, right?  Wrong.  Even as the list has grown I've wanted to believe I didn't need to actually give anything up. 

Today it begins.  I'm going to go back to my protein rich diet and stop eating so much junk.  My fear is that my body won't go back to the way it was -- that I'll be stuck with the worst of the DS symptoms for good.

Not that I tend toward alarmist, worst case scenerio kinds of thinking.

I'm Back

Weight:  170

Okay so I'm back to blogging.  At least I think so anyway.   What's been going on?  Mostly I've just sort  of lost the will to type at the end of my work day.  But I miss blogging so I'm going to make time for it.  Nothing is wrong especially other than my usual anxiety / angst -- but thanks much for the comments and emails asking me where I'd gone.  I just retreat at times.

In other news... 

I found out last last week that my parents are moving back to Los Angeles.  My dad's been offered a great position in the LA office.  They'd talked to me about this when they were in Los Angeles following Eloise's surgery.  I was excited then, even more so when they told me my dad had been putting out feelers about returning to LA before they went to Italy (they went for 2 1/2 weeks in early March to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary).  But I wasn't getting my hopes up because, well, lots can happen plus the company needed to be willing to compensate him for the difference in cost of living between the two cities and pay for their relocation.   It's now official though.  And, knowing how his industry works, the move will happen fast.  He's expecting to be in LA pretty often by the end of the month.  My mom will stay in Portland until both the house sells and we figure out a good place in LA for my grandmother. 

Helping to find a place for my grandmother has become my new task.  While, on the one hand, she's almost 101, on the other she's in pretty good health and has all of her marbles -- more than can be said of her granddaughter.  Her current living arrangement is sort of a studio apartment with some supervision and assistance with dressing and bathing.  She has all her own furniture around her and a little kitchen space where she can make toast and coffee (there's no way she'd be up for eating at 8am).  The place is very clean and the people who work there are very kind and caring.  I need to find something like it in LA so she can feel happy here.  Tricky that. 

My dissertation is going well -- the chapter I'm working on is now over 60 pages and I'm just starting to go back and insert the most recent research on the author (Maria Amparo Ruiz de Burton) and novel (Who Would Have Thought It?).  I suspect I've got another 10 - 20 pages to write on it and then be able to clean it up a bit and pass it on to my advisor.  I plan to trim out a good part of it, but want her to read it in its full form first.  It's nice to feel things moving forward for a change.

Paul and I did our taxes and discovered we had a better year than we thought.  So good that we owe a good chunk of change to the IRS.  Feh.  Anyway, like everything else it'll get paid somehow.  Meantime he's still freelancing while looking for work.  Though the irony is that having to earn enough to keep our rent paid is sort of cutting into his ability to look for a real job.  Vicious circle that.  Me thinks he needs a headhunter.  Anyone know a decent one in technology / computer programming?  Still he earns far more than I can. 

Work is stressful right now yet still mind numbingly dull.  Even so, I'm so relieved to have a job for next year.  The idea of having to search for another one just would bite in so many ways. 

That's it for now.  I'm going to try and blog every day this week but you know what they say about good intentions.  We'll see how I do.