I've been feeling crummy lately. Not sick, just angry and wild. I figure it's a combination of exercise -- my body doesn't know what the hell is going on -- and that I stopped taking one of those small pretty pills that affect chemicals on the inside. (The prescription ran out and since my medical insurance never considered it a necessary expense, I guess I don't either.) Pretty soon it'll sort itself out but in the interim, I feel caged and all tied up.

So I bought a pair of Fluevog shoes at lunch. And I donated some money to a theatre. And I bought a homeless guy a baguette. And I wore a binder clip in my hair to hold it back. A big fat binder clip with shiny metal pieces stuck out like wings.

This paragraph is a WoW related rant. You've been warned... And then in WoW, some nice and helpful but misguided person sent me a note that I was pricing items too low (one item in particular that I priced low one time because there were three others up and I didn't have space in my inventory to hold onto it.) I can't even tell you how much money I've made off the Auction House in WoW. I have a system that involves writing everything down for reference and tracking how much things sell for. I do research here. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I always try to be fair. And then this dumbass sends me a note telling me I'm "killing the market." Yeah, bilking new players out of 3 gold for a recipe they can buy at a vendor for 20 silver (like this player told me I should do -- and seriously, no one will ever pay that much money for that lame recipe) is better. It's players like this who make it impossible to afford anything in the Auction House, and besides, I'm still making a modest profit -- usually 3-5 times what the vendor price goes for, the cost of convenience, I say. I just can't believe the nerve of some people. This person actually said: what about the cost of your time? Gimme a break. It costs 6 silver to fly out there, I hearth back, and I check the Blackwater AH at the same time. It doesn't cost me anything to make a side trip and buy that stupid recipe.

I guess I'm taking WoW too seriously. I need to start writing again, and by that I mean my own stuff, not work stuff. Although I can't stop writing work stuff exactly because heck, I get paid to do that. The personal writing just keeps me sane.

My arms have muscles in them that are visible, unlike before when they were invisible. It's been one month since I started exercising and everyday my body changes a little bit more. That's one thing to feel good about. I'm pushing myself to do things I never thought I could do.

Now if I could only figure out how to stop with all the rage.

Tonight's one of those nights I'd like to drink a lot. I'd like to dance in the middle of a bunch of strangers. I'd like to put on a short skirt and lip sync to bad pop songs.

But I'm not that much fun. Besides, I don't even know where to do that here.

It's all this exercising. It's making me want to do things I wouldn't normally have energy for. It's that time of year, I guess. Like every year. Where I just don't want to be me for awhile. I'm just not sure who I'd rather be instead.

I guess that's why they say what they say about April. About it being cruel and all.

It's a nice feeling, to fit into my jeans again. Results. Cause and effect. That's what it's all about.

There was a shooting in Capitol Hill yesterday morning. A young man at an undead zombie rave party left briefly, returned with guns and shot, killed, and wounded party-goers. The wounded stumbled outside to the neighbors and begged for help. It's reported that the young man went upstairs and shot through a bathroom door where two people were hiding. He missed them both, but killed others, execution style. Finally, when confronted by police, he turned the gun on himself.

Nobody knows the gunman's motive. Or why he spray painted the word, "Now" outside.

Some days you just wonder, what's the point?

The condo board where we rent our place wants to restrict the number of renters. This may mean nothing or quite a lot, depending on how the vote goes. As it is, we're supposed to sign a 3 year lease on Saturday to try to get around the new restrictions.

I don't want to worry about it yet because the details are sketchy. I love where we live and we don't bother anybody. It's just ridiculous. They should spend their time fixing the structural problems in the building -- it's sinking into the bay -- or replacing the locks which get stuck or twist up all the time, or keeping our cars from getting broken into... you know, real problems. It makes me angry. We don't give any of them a reason to complain, and here they are, wanting to force us out.

Jer and I could go and put a deposit down on a condo elsewhere, but man, I've had it with condos. You just can't win with these people. It's like a great big dysfunctional family.

So now, all of a sudden, we face the possibility of finding a new place in September. I cannot even express how frustrated that makes me.

I'm still doing the working out thing with the personal trainer. Today was legs.

My current pattern is to meet with the trainer on Saturday morning after 30 minutes on the elliptical, and then to do weight/resistance training for a half hour. Then all day Sunday, I lie on the couch with the heating pad and bitch about how much my limbs hurt. This was my March. Next week I'll have worked out every day (minus Sundays) for 1 month. Go me.

Also, I have a problem with Law & Order: Criminal Intent. My problem is that I can't get enough. Apparently I am a fan of Vincent D'Onofrio and I didn't even know it. It's funny that I've gone through life thus far, blissfully ignorant of this affliction. But now that it has unfolded, it can't be put right, like some tangled road map of obsession.

It was arm day at the gym and whenever it's arm day I think of "Anchorman" and Will Ferrell's line, "I can barely lift my arms I did so many." I end up with noodle limbs that are only good for interpretive dance, and even that's a stretch.

After arm day, I went to a kitchen store and bought a multi-pot set and a loaf pan for super cheap. Because the lid was dented, but not too badly, the multi-pot set was $30, marked down from $167. And the loaf pan was 40% off. The fates are clearly telling me to cook, nay, demanding, and it's not in my nature to second guess the Moirai.

Then when I got home, my morning was complete. My new Cthulu slippers arrived! It's impossible to be down with the Elder God twins strapped to my footsies, devouring me whole. Later I went to see "V for Vendetta" and bought bubble bath.

I enjoyed the movie, though I want to know how it differed from the graphic novel since supposedly it was quite a lot. I'm embarrassed by how little I know about Alan Moore's work. For Christmas, I got "Watchmen" but I haven't read it yet. I decided that some book about managing documentation projects was more important since it drew fewer inquiring looks from my fellow bus passengers. And if there's one thing I hate about buses, is talking to my fellow passengers. Especially when all they want to know is what to put on their burritos.

True story.

yo

know how many calories are in a muthafuckin hard-boiled egg?

i do

it's how i roll

---

I slept with the heating pad gripped to my stomach. Maybe I should take it easy today. I've got the pain, but very little to show for it. Sure I could go around asking people to squeeze my arms (they are so buff, yah?), but that's a lawsuit waiting to happen.

I ordered a food processor and an apple peeler/corer from Amazon so I can make pumpkin apple bread. When I call my parents every other week and give them updates on my life, this is what I tell them. And they laugh at me because everyone else in my family is an excellent cook and I am slow. Also, they laugh at me because my news is about buying a food processor. Am I exploring my new state of residence? Am I attending arts events, museums, galleries...? No. I am reading epinions.com and selecting a 3-Cup Little Pro Plus Food Processor and Juicer, White.

And in honor of St. Patrick's Day, did you know that there are 142 calories in one 12oz bottle of Harp's? Here is a tip from me to you: the key to maintaining your diet on St. Patrick's Day is to drink until the calories become an abstract concept, something outside your influence, and then, most importantly, don't write it down. It's not real if you don't acknowledge it. Put the empty back in those empty calories! Rebel against the conditions of existence!

I think I just invented the Existential Diet.

In your face, South Beach!

And then there's taxes. Due to exercising a few stock options given to me by my previous employer, I owe a veritable buttload of money to the government. On the one hand, the stock sale paid for our move to dear Seattle. On the other, well, ouch. I could buy a used car with that kind of money, or get orthodontic surgery, if I needed orthodontic surgery. Or even go for LASIK, round two. I'm sure my eyes wouldn't mind some frivolous cosmetic enhancements. Hey, anything for free Valium!

Actually I was disappointed in the Valium. I expected more.

Speaking of LASIK, the best part came at the end when they led me to a dark room and sat me down in a comfy recliner. The nurse or assistant person draped a blanket over my legs, turned on classical music and instructed me to sit quietly. It was pleasant. Minutes later the nurse returned, and my recliner time was at an end. They needed the chair for another body since it only takes five minutes per eye... Jer led me to the car, my eyes clenched tight, and I spent the remainder of the day resting and listening to Lenny Bruce on CD. Good times.

The worst part was when they clamped my eyelids back into my head and I could feel the doctor (skip if you're squeamish) swab the cover of my cornea back into place. It's a bizarre sensation to see the world through a haze and then see it all go dark for a second even though you know your eyes are open.

But hey, Valium, right?

You should know that these slippers are on their way to me, and will soon be on my feet as I type. I am hopeful that the cats won't eat the tentacles off his face, but I make no promises.

I'm on day two of diligently recording everything I eat and I have one thing to say: it is exhausting to think about food all the time. I've never given this much thought to fruit for example, really never. I used to make fun of people like this, and here I am pricing fancy vegetable steamers that I wouldn't really need if I could only figure out how to use a colander properly. But they remind me too much of a Strawberry Shortcake flower shower I had when I was little, and I get confused whenever I see one. The petals are everywhere! is what my brain is broadcasting. Now no one can shower inside a giant strawberry.

I tried to convince Jer that I NEEDED to buy the Alton Brown "Good Eats" DVDs so Mr. Alton could teach me how to cook proper-like but he wasn't having any of it. Apparently I have a history of spending excessive money on things I NEED only to find out later that it just plugged some mental hole and once the hole was filled I didn't need it anymore. (I'm looking at you, Body By Jake Ab Rocker.) So, sorry Mr. Alton. I will be watching you on cable with the other paupers. And maybe someday I'll figure out how to steam a stick of broccoli, or whatever you call it.

A skyscraper, downtown, cubicles in front of a big wide window, vodka, guitar, lightning, and five minutes of snow. Across the way was a building where all the lights on all the floors had an orange glow except one. That floor looked like it was in black and white.

And then I was racing for my bus, which chose that night of all the nights, to be 15 minutes late, and I knew they were all still up there, singing and nodding their heads and sipping their drinks. And I was juggling my gym bag and letting the rain fall in my hair.

Now I'm recording what I eat in a journal and trying to figure out exchange points, but I'm not very good at it. I'm pricing food processors and woks, thinking I should stir fry something. It's been about two weeks of daily working out now, and my clothes hang a little different and my arm and leg muscles are tighter, but no one else can see it yet. I need to buy new clothes because my old ones are looking ratty, but I don't want to do it until my shape quits shifting.

I didn't tell you about the floating bridge last Wednesday night. The wind was bad, about 50 mph, as I drove across the floating bridge to get to class. The wind whipped the waves into a frenzy, the crests sprayed off in all directions, the water toppled over the walls onto the road, onto our cars, as we crawled along at 10mph. About 10 minutes after I crossed, the authorities closed the bridge for the rest of the night because a piece broke. It was like driving through a whirlpool since we were so close to the water and the wind and swerving. I was in awe and it was all I could do to keep the car driving straight and my eyes on the road. So pretty.

class act

It's cold today, rainy and windy. I'd hoped that all this working out would leave me less angry, more inspired, awake, and aware. But right now I'm just exhausted. And then there's my last class tonight for the session. Last week's class was not that useful. I sat there with my head in my hands, generating face pimples, and pretending that the instructor was not telling me things I learned five years ago.

I have less patience now that I've returned to school after working full-time because I know when the instructor says, "This will be important later, you'll see," I know when he is full of shit. The truth is, most of the class content is not important, never will be important, and my life is slipping by while he lectures me on crap that does not improve the quality of my life in any way. Or justify my having been awake for 16 hours.

This is a dim view of education, and I'm not giving up. I registered for another class in June that should be more hands-on and less random, abstract, overview... I'm hoping the next class will be taught by someone who does the work he lectures on, somebody who doesn't just consult, but works in the profession. There's too much of a disconnect between the idealized version of should and the actual version of is. Too often these weeks I've looked at the slides on the screen and thought, "But that's not how it works. That's not how it works at all." Even when I asked questions -- and I was one of the only ones who did -- I got blank stares or wrong answers. It makes me sad. This class could've yielded some great discussion.

I wish I could blow it off tonight. But I won't. I'll just buy a bottomless cup of coffee in the cafeteria and drink until jittery. It's $1.50 well spent.

bring it

Yesterday I added weights to my fitness routine and so today was pain day. A thousand tiny threads pulling at muscles in my abdomen, ripping them down and tearing into pinpoints of achiness.

The moral of this story is that I am a wuss.

I have not been good company to be around, but at least my foot doesn't hurt anymore.

I apologize. I am sort of single-minded about the gym thing because I am afraid that if I get distracted I'll forget to go. It's happened before. And I don't want to be that little girl again who took flute lessons but didn't practice the flute in her spare time and her teacher totally knew and she always felt guilty. So yeah. Not doing that.

By the way, the thing that seems to have fixed my foot is Dr. Scholl's inserts for athletic shoes.

I am still playing more World of Warcraft than I should. And there's the work thing, and the class thing. I would like to give special thanks to my iPod for being such a good sport. I couldn't do this without you, iPod. You give me a reason to walk in place faster.

if ...

if i were a boxer i'd want my name to be The TeamPlayer
and then i would pummel people with my fists of compromise

More of the same. I like the elliptical machine at the gym. I never used one before last Saturday. The treadmill hurt my foot somehow. I guess I walked wrong. My second session with the trainer is tomorrow. I hope my foot feels better before then.

I went to class tonight but I didn't learn anything, and I was bored. I amused myself by daydreaming. That's one thing I miss about being a student, all the daydreaming.

Some crappy work stuff is happening that is forcing me to be very adult when I want to stick out my tongue and say waaah.

Some good work stuff is happening that makes me happy to be there.

The new class schedule is out for the community college and I have my eye on a course that runs five Saturdays in a row. I'm not sure how that'd affect my WoW obsession, but I imagine there will be a big empty hole in my life for those five weeks.

Happy March.