Sometimes I have to accept certain truths.

Most of the time I am way too poor to even think about shopping for fashionable things, but eventually I look at myself in the mirror and wonder how in the hell I can go out in public and not be embarrassed that my clothes are so raggedy or are squeezing me in inappropriate ways. Shopping once a year for a few fresh items usually does the trick, but in the last two years, my body outpaced my spending ability and desire.

After the first six months of running and completing my first marathon, none of my pants fit me anymore because my legs had gotten so muscular. In response, I bought one new pair of jeans (that were equally ill-fitting in retrospect, but in a different way) and continued to stress all of my pants with my newfound girth. This last year, I have focused on trying to run faster and not quite eating as much. All the exercise makes me hungrier, but dietitians assure me that I do not in fact need to be eating that much more food. So, I have managed to wear my tight old jeans for yet another year and everything seemed fine and dandy…

That is, until I ripped the thigh open on my favorite pair. I looked at the stress marks on the other two pairs and knew that they would soon follow. After an extensive search for a better fit and many jean shops and department stores, I finally accepted that I can no longer shop in the teenybopper section. Regular (well, short) straight-leg jeans fit like those oh-so-popular skinny jeans, and skinny jeans are like straight jackets for my legs. STRAIGHT JACKETS, I tell you. (I would buy boot cut or something even roomier, but I need pants that are safe from my voracious bike chain. Is that so much to ask?)

To keep a long story long, I landed in a section I never wanted to ever have to shop in. I will not divulge the name here, but I suspect that one could guess it in a couple of tries upon looking at me in my pants. It was a sad day, but I did come home with four new pairs of jeans (black, khaki and two shades of blue) that fit beautifully. Now that I have retrofit my wardrobe with fitted pants and a new pair of shorts in my now larger size, I feel a bit better about the process of culling the clothes that don’t fit right anymore. This is the hardest part, to be sure.

Some of my favorite clothes ever only fit when I had puny little noodle legs. I learned this lesson years ago when I started doing push-ups at karate class and my arms no longer fit into the cute teenybopper-blouse sleeves, but somehow it cuts deeper now that it’s my legs. I guess I thought I already had some decent leg muscles, so it was simultaneously upsetting that I had to buy new pants while giving up my old favorites and also that my “strong” legs (which had fueled my self esteem for years) had been a farce!

Anyhow, even I want to punch me in the face right now because I am obviously whining about something pretty unimportant. I just needed to externalize my ridiculous thoughts so that I could move forward with purchasing the last few things I need for a decent wardrobe and check this puppy off my list with a clear mind.

Over the last few weeks, I also found some affordable snow boots and winter scarves that actually match the rest of my clothes and don’t smell bad. Ditto on the shoes – I replaced my stinky black ballet flats with some nice new suede ones ($8 at Target) and adopted some leather knee-high boots from my sister in case I ever need to go out in a dress before spring arrives in full force. That should tide me over until December when I will ask for whatever my body decides to break in 2009 and then buy whatever I don’t get during the after-Christmas sales.

Thank goodness I was already a cheapskate before I felt the need to be so independent and poor.

See more progress on: get the clothes I need and make sure they fit

Sometimes It's Pretty Preposterous

Just taking the recycling out a few minutes ago, I was noticing that the landlord is finally, after eight months of promises, rebuilding the trash enclosure - a simple wooden fence with a gate about ten feet on a side. I noticed the nice new latch that wouldn't fall off and threaten splinters, and that the door was no longer hanging dangerously off of one hinge. A few seconds later, I noticed the sound of the door slamming shut as a gust of wind came to brighten my day. When I turned around, I noticed that I was trapped inside because the landlord did not install one of the nifty latches that has a handle for people on the inside.

The next thing that I noticed was that they had only rebuilt the gate side and that the other three walls were still falling apart, full of splinters and rusty nails. (Terrific.) I can't remember when I got my last tetanus shot, so I tried out several L-shaped twigs to get the latch open, but ones that were small enough to fit through the opening between the doors were too weak to pull up on the latch without breaking. (Terrific!) Once I had four or five fly bites, I decided to take a chance on not twisting an ankle or getting a rusty nail injection or a gnarly under-the-nail splinter and I managed to climb out.

To cheer myself up, I went to get my mail from the porch. As I pulled it out, a cute small envelope fell out of the pile of junk mail. I thought, 'Yay! A card!' But when I turned it over, I saw "RETURNED TO SENDER" scribbled across it - my thank you note that I sent the day of my job interview last week. TEEEE-riffic. There was also a sticker across the address where someone wrote "NOT AT USGS," where of course I was not sending the card in the first place. I had interviewed with an entirely different government agency. Now the man thinks I am not a thank-you-note-sending candidate. Today, I am life's chump.

At least there's always tomorrow.

Because There Never Seems to be Enough Time, but That's Okay

Do you ever feel like there are so many amazing things in this world that you have to start as many of them as you can as soon as possible or else you'll run out of time? I do. I realize that this is the nature of life: that everybody eventually runs out of time to do all the things there are to do. Still, I like the sense of urgency that hinges on the hope that I might get to do it all if I just hurry.

In Conclusion, To Hell With Your Conclusion!, or I Sometimes Have My Reasons

I hate reading conclusions. I always believed that I was just too clever and lazy for my own good when I didn't finish my reading assignments for class. I consistently did this through all the years of my study (that I can remember) and to this day find myself trailing off and putting a book down rather than finishing it and feeling that sense of accomplishment that I hear others express at the completion of some reading assignment.

Frankly, I prefer to develop my own conclusions. The nearer I get to the end of an article or paper, the more inclined I am to start skimming. I often start formulating my own ideas and watch off-shoots of these ideas apply themselves to my life and my view of the world as I follow my imagination around the uncharted (or partially uncharted) 3-D space of my neural pathways rather than continuing to forge new pathways by "paying attention" to the words I read. It's like I get pissed as I approach the end and sense that the author is trying to tell me what to make of the facts or ideas he has just presented. Habitually, I give that author (okay, all non-fiction authors) the metaphorical finger, turning the pages with increasing speed until I'm irritated enough to toss the pages on the counter and grab a bowl of ice cream to nurse while I watch episodes of TNG (my two favorite things to do while I'm busy writing to the hard disk).



Like how this entry is autological?

Sometimes You Have to Just Close Your Eyes and Jump

I got the good word from the future landlords today and broke the news to the folks at work. They seemed happy for me and the plans are for me to vacate by the end of next weekend. My lease at the new place starts this Tuesday so that I can start moving in the evenings. It took me a few weeks to pack the last time I moved and I don't have that luxury this time. I just have to bite the bullet and pay for two places at once. (At least that part is minimized to six days.)

When I first sat down to weigh my options, I compared the price, location, amenities and all that important stuff a person should consider when making a big decision like this. Sitting comfortably in my deluxe staff apartment, the answer was clear: STAY, STAY, STAY! The world seems awfully terrifying when you're cozy on the couch your apartment came furnished with, watching cable television that also comes with the apartment and doing free loads of laundry without having to leave the comfort of your home - including mid-week loads that need to be done on the fly. I mean, I sold my microwave after I left the last place because I thought I'd be staying here a lot longer. Now I'm not only down several hundred bucks for the security deposit that wasn't required here but is at the new place, but I also lose out on a microwave, dishwasher, LOTS of counter and closet space (not to mention a separate bedroom), free in-home laundry, and a bunch of furniture that would probably be nice to sit on or eat at in my new efficiency.

Just off the top of my head, I'm going to need shell out for a couch or futon, several rugs, some kind of dresser or wardrobe, DSL, laundry, and new tubes for my bike that I'll need for my short daily commute. That means being poor for a while again. With Christmas coming and two visits to LA between now and the end of the year, that while may be longer than I'd like.

The answer was pretty clear until I decided in my mind that I would turn it down if I got it. An apartment for one at this price does not come along very often. In fact, it is almost too good to be true! I thought about what my life would be like next month while trying to negotiate another difficult work-school schedule with all the powers that be. I thought about the way I seethe with bitterness whenever I have a bad day at work because the threat of homelessness looms whenever I even *think* about what life would be like just working part-time and going back to school full-time. Oh how I seethe! I also wasted countless hours of my life watching bad television just because it was there and I was *comfortable* on the couch. I thought repeatedly about how difficult my life would become by rushing into this huge transition, but in the end, it was clear that my decision should be based on the kind of person I want to be and not the kind of life I want to lead.

If you asked me a year ago what kind of life I wanted, it would be this - now. Earning a living, enjoying a deluxe apartment to myself, making progress toward my degree again and still having some extra dough to nourish a new hobby or good habit. (Hello, marathoning!) Still, the only times I can remember being happy and fulfilled were the times I spent out on the trails putting in the miles (and not nearly enough of them) and the short hours I could be with mister-man, both usually only one day a week, or two if I was lucky. Did I just not have enough time? Can't be it, considering how many episodes of "Hannah Montana" and "Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends" I've seen while 'reading for class'. I invested a lot of time in "sticking it out" here to live the "luxurious" life and all the emotional salves that had to come with it. I watched television to medicate - to distract myself from all the things in this world that are too hard or too scary. I see a lot of people do this and I don't want to be one of them. I've lost my sense of purpose and have been carrying on haphazardly with the goals I created for myself months ago.

Yes, this is going to be hard. Yes, it will be scary. There are going to be a lot of things to get used to all over again and I'm going to have to be vigilant with my money and even more tight with my schedule. It will be a big leap, but I can't pass up future opportunity for what feels safe for now, because it's only for now. I won't let that false sense of security kill my spirit. This is not who I am and I can't stay here any longer. I just have to close my eyes, hold my breath and jump on into the deep end of the pool...

Sometimes Things Aren't So Clear

I may be moving to a new apartment in the next week or so. Or, I may get turned down by the owners or simply change my mind on Monday and stay where I am, comfortable in my familiar misery. It would be nice if these big decisions and last minute moves could come at more convenient times, like when I don't have my next several weekends booked and I'm not still recovering from my first marathon. But that would be too easy. That would make it way too easy to just pick up and move on to greener pastures, which seems to be one of my fortes in spite of how painful and exhausting it is each time I do it.

Mom has already expressed concern that I will put myself in a bad position by jumping on this opportunity prematurely and I thoroughly understand her concern since I'm right there with her. However, I am also concerned that this will be my one and only opportunity to secure a place to live which is not only affordable and roommate-free (a boon!) but also strategically located near public transportation and walking distance from campus and the office. Will I find another opportunity to do this when it's more convenient for me to move in December or January? I highly doubt it.

I should really start worrying about if I even have any friends left who are willing to help me move this 32" television. Or maybe even consider finally giving it up?





(...NOOOOOOOOO!!!!)

The Mr. Rogers I Didn't Know, But in a Way Always Did

Lawrence brought this to me through the lens of his tumblr, and I thank him and Mr. Rogers both.