Am I the only person on the planet who sweats while working out? Seriously, in a room full of women, after an hour of jumping around and vehemently denying that Billy Jean was ever my lover, I look around and see a flurry of perfectly styled bangs, still poofed from their morning run-ins with hair dryers and styling gizmos. Meanwhile I look like Andie McDowell at the end of Four Weddings and Funeral, only slightly more red and slightly less MAKING OUT WITH HUGH GRANT. I don’t know whether to be ashamed or proud. I do know that I am eating lasagna tonight.
Reminiscing March 12, 2010
The rainy season will begin in Fundong on Monday. It happens every year on March 15th, according to every single person you talk to, even the guy out on the sunny street on March 16th. That is when rainy season BEGINS, and no one can be bothered with pesky details like reality. So as of Monday morning, the dust will be splattered with drops of water, and all the green that has been so demurely hiding itself for months will start to peer out again. The valleys that disappeared in December behind a dusty haze will magically reappear, and one tiny corner of the world will look clean and new again. It’s a lovely time of year, swiftly followed by a few months of mud and canceled meetings and rain pounding so loudly on the tin roof that one can’t even watch a movie and one might even freak out for an hour or so before one remembers that headphones are awesome and more powerful than even the rain TAKE THAT NATURE! I WILL WATCH JOE VS. THE VOLCANO IN SPITE OF YOUR NEFARIOUS WAYS!
For two years I missed the slow transition of the seasons. The gentle (and in Seattle, seemingly endless) drift of winter into spring. The sudden realization every year that, Hey! It’s 7:30 and it’s still light out! I missed that moment a lot. Almost as much as I missed fall, with it’s lovely, crisp air–the perfect excuse to buy more yarn so I could start another sweater that would never be finished. I missed it, and I bemoaned the monotony of the paltry two seasons that switched back and forth with such abruptness four times a year. And the wretched 12 hour days, each one starting and ending at exactly the same time! (And the wretched chickens! With their chicken noises! At any and every hour with no regard for the sun or it’s position!) Oh it was a hard life I led over there, with the seasons and the livestock.
And now, suddenly, I’m sort of sad I won’t get to wake up on Monday morning and go for a walk and see this:
I think the cheese is worth it, but sometimes it’s hard to tell.
Today March 11, 2010
6:30am: Get up
6:31am: Reconsider the whole gainful employment thing, as I can only assume it involves more of this whole ‘getting up’ thing.
7:00am: Wait for phone to ring. Try not to feel like a middle schooler the weekend before the first big dance.
7:15am: Realize today’s job interview must be with the only company in NY who doesn’t think the whole world operates on Eastern Standard Time.
7:16am: Rejoice in this fact.
7:17am: Stop rejoicing as the knowledge that I got up an hour and a half early just so I could drink half a cup of coffee and feel nervous for a while sets in.
7:18am: Go back to bed.
9:00am: Lets try this all again.
9:30am: But first! Let’s put the pot roast in the crock-pot!
9:43am: Receive critically important email from Mike. Am forced to turn down invite to hang out at hipster coffee shop. Regret this decision for the rest of the day and possibly my life.
10:00am: Answer the phone. Try not to sound breathy or weird.
10:17am: Realize the man interviewing me was also in the Peace Corps and therefore has a much better idea of the kind of ‘experience’ I had than most other people. Panic slightly. This man knows that when I say that I ‘designed and implemented a project to improve nutrition in a rural community’ that what I really mean is that I ‘sometimes went to meetings when it wasn’t raining and showed people terribly drawn pictures of food and made them tell me if they belonged in the ‘go’, ‘glow’ or ‘grow’ group’.
10:24am: Mention all the totally awesome ice-breakers I did all the time.
10:25am: Promptly forget every ice-breaker I’ve ever done.
11:00am: Hang up. I love them! I want to work for them! Hope that I have conveyed this to them without sounding breathy or weird.
11:15am: Poke pot roast.
12:00pm: Apply to two more jobs I’m not that interested in.
12:30pm: Time for lunch!
1:15pm: Discover that I can do Zumba at 1:30 on channel 88. It’s free! It’s now! The world is my freaking oyster.
1:32pm: Find myself standing in the living room in my yoga pants watching some obnoxious man yell to me how awesome Zumba is and explaining to me how the DVD can be Mine! All Mine! for just $19.95 + shipping and handling! It’s a sensation!!
1:35pm: Poke pot roast.
1:36pm: Put my iPhone in a ziplock bag.
1:37pm: Start my mother-effing run in the rain.
1:49pm: I am feeling the burn! Amy Whinehouse is amazing! If I could see anything through my rained on/fogged up glasses I would run in the rain all the time!
1:52pm: I am wet. The burn is slightly more burny. But Amy is still pretty good.
2:45pm: Back at the computer. Jobs. Jobs jobs jobs jobsjosbjosfjohbsljgos…..
3:20pm: Consider alcoholism as a way to combat boredom. I’m at home all day! It’s not like I would be driving!
3:46pm: Poke pot roast.
3:47pm: Wonder if I am somehow interrupting magical slow cooking process with my incessant poking.
3:47 and 30 secs(pm): Hey-O!
3:48pm: Vow to stop poking pot roast.
4:00pm: Back to the jobsjobsjobsjobs…
4:17pm: Blog! Hey!
5:00pm: Well, that’s another good day done!
5:02pm: Whatever. It’s actually only 4:20pm and I am now officially just predicting future laziness. But I think that I am doing it with a fair degree of accuracy.
5:06pm: Poke pot roast.
Whoops. March 8, 2010
You know what I like to do? I like to followup a good weekend full of fantastic meals, good friends, two-year-olds that run around yelling “My underwear is crazy!” while adjusting their wedgies, and pretty people in pretty clothes, with a mediocre phone interview. It really starts the week off right. Hey there World of Jobs That Pay Money, how’s it going? I can’t really be bothered to care right now, because I am mediocre. And also probably apathetic. Want to hang out? Cause I’m not going to work very hard to convince you that I do. But if you like, want to, I guess I could. It’s possible I sounded slightly better than that. Possible. Lets just say I probably I won’t be signing that ‘Start Spreading the News’ song based on this morning’s interaction.
However, the weekend was lovely. I ate veal! So lets see here…since I’ve been back in the States, I’ve been to a wine tasting, gone sailing, and eaten veal. I think the lesson here is a simple one–America, being unemployed is AWESOME. Stop bitching.*
I also managed to buy a dress this weekend–for my little brother’s wedding at the end of the month. Unfortunately, I probably won’t be able to wear it again in July, for my little sister’s wedding. God. I am so very happy for both of them. And feel only the teensiest bit inadequate about my lack of upcoming nuptials. After all, I’m 29, single, jobless, and living (temporarily!) with my father. What’s there to feel insecure about?
*America, there may be a hint of bravado in this statement. Truthfully, I would really, really, really like a job. One that pays money. And possibly involves full benefits and Jon Stewart. Could we work on that please?
And I’m Not Even Ashamed. That Much. March 5, 2010
So I think what’s happening is that in an attempt to reacquaint myself with all things American, I’ve gone a little overboard. At the moment I’m leading this strangely domestic (and strangely enjoyable) existence, involving a lot of episodes of Malcom in the Middle, three pugs, cooking, ‘playing the guitar’, and my newest–and admittedly silly sounding–pass time, Zumba. (And by ‘pass-time’, I mean of course that I’ve done it once.) All of which is fine. I like dogs and food and the triumphant feeling of almost getting that A chord correct. And as for the Zumba, well, I defy you to enter a room full of 30/40/50something-year-old women doing the pony and NOT HAVE A GOOD TIME. I think I was sweating as much from laughing at myself as from the actual working out. So, all in all, I am living the American housewife circa 1958’s dream, minus the overbearing husband and sticky children, and plus a little awkward strumming and off-key humming Rock and Roll.Except I took it a step further. I was looking through my dad’s itunes collection, trying to find something to listen to among such gems as “Julie Andrews and the Children”, “Larry the Cable Guy”, and “Mediaeval Baebes”. Now this is not one of those situations where I ‘admit’ to loving something really ‘lame’ that’s actually super cool–like Dolly Parton, or the Golden Girls. This is actually sad. And I’m listening to it RIGHT NOW. Man, I like Jewel. And not even her big hit album. Nope, I’m listening to a different one. Because there’s more than one, and at one time I owned and sang–quite soulfully, let me assure you–to each of them as I drove my silver 1979 roller skate Honda-matic to McKay High School. Plus, look at her!
Anyway, I’m planning to tear myself away from her melodious voice soon, because I need to go out and buy a Jonas Brother’s album.
In slightly less humiliating news, I have a couple of phone interviews lined up for next week, with various do-gooder type organizations in New York. Which is really exciting, and really stressful, and just generally really a lot of things. Necessary though. Because honestly, in a city of 8 million people, there’s got to be someone less cool than me, right?