Death becomes him

The unpleasant illness I've been experiencing since I got back from Alaska has grown worse. I worked from home all last week, and went to the doctor Thursday, praying I wouldn't just get a dismissive diagnosis. After the standard schpeel querying if it might possibly be HIV, my doctor hooked something on my finger, led me around his office, and determined it was something bronchial.

Fine.

So I went up to the main hospital to have a cat scan done by an irremediably beautiful Latino guy (thank God I got to keep my shirt on). It was not a chest infection, which would have resulted in me being checked into the ER right then and there, but he did prescribe some antibiotics and a respiratory spray.

I picked them both up on Friday, which I had off, and also had my blood tests done. My Ferritin is through the roof, so a phlebotomy is in my near future. My doctor had asked, after he'd gone through all the routine questions, "What do you think it is?" and I explained how my liver had been jutting out Ferritin through my skull cap for years, and I could feel it, like little sesame seeds being pushed through my veins and arteries. I suspected that might be the cause of the headaches.

Anyways, I made my way to TJ's, picked up some provisions, and then--having proudly taken the bus to all of these locations--I took the quick Uber ride home because it was uphill, and I wasn't about to push it.

The medication seemed to have worked the first day or two, although it doesn't seem like there's anything coming out of the respirator. I've got six more days worth of antibiotics, and my doctor said he was going to try something else if that didn't solve things.

I hate this off-kilter feeling like my life has gone awry. It's like forty hit me, and it hit me fucking hard by reminding me no amount of super-powered multi-vitamins or super green smoothies can truly make me impervious. Part of me really just wants to take a month leave after the merit is paid (which I'm the lead on this year) so I can rest up, but if my health isn't actually improving, I don't quite see the point. And being comatose in bed watching TV through fever dream eyes is pretty fucking abysmal.

I'm not eating because I have not appetite. And I'm definitely not working out, so there goes all of my gym progress and the beloved swarm of weekend endorphins. So yes, I'm hoping this shit passes STAT.

In far more lovely news, I finally got baptized last Sunday! I was teetering and not feeling my best, but it was a lovely experience. Lea showed, and was great. We went to the Palace for lunch afterwards. I'm so glad I finally did this.

The laaaaat mothafuckin' ass frontier

My trip to Alaska was lovely.

I got up at the ungodly hour of 4:00 am, prepared myself, and trekked to the BART for a nice and easy trip to SFO. Now that Virgin has gone under and been bought out by Alaska, I wasn't exactly sure what I was in for. But it was a connecting flight, so the first leg was in one of the old Virgin jets with the nice violet lighting and the great stretch out seats. I ended up sitting next to a neat freak who legit took out a set of Lysol wipes and cleaned down every surface of his area. I guess that's better than the dude who took out his laptop and straight up started looking at gay porn.

Then from Seattle to Anchorage, I was on one of Alaska's Boeing jets--and in the vicinity of just the kind of people you would expect to be going to Alaska. A guy coming up the escalator in front of me had a duffel bag with "NRA" on it. Saw lots of dudes in shirts with American flags, and the regulation baseball cap with sunglasses resting on the brim. I took my seat in first class while southern accents twanged all around me, and the stewardess, sporting an '80s-styled short curly 'do and embodying the spitting image of a greasy spoon waitress, came and took everyone's drink orders. When I said I didn't want anything, she said, "Nothing? Are ya sure? Oh, you're just bein' difficult," and lightly swatted me on the back of the head with the menu.

Annoying.

Speaking of the menu, it was here on this connecting flight that I felt the difference between my cosmopolitan Virgin airlines and the homey world of Alaska Airlines as the two entree items offered were of the beef and chicken varieties. I hadn't eaten beforehand as the thought of food at 5:00 or 6:00 am is purely vomit-inducing. I also hate screaming my order over someone else, and prefer the more civilized online menu where you place an order without having to say a word, and the stewardess brings it to you.

So, I sat there and starved.

As we flew into Anchorage, I almost wanted to burst out laughing. All below me was white--pure, unadulterated white. Like, I expected it to be wintery, but knew it wouldn't be the arctic proper. We landed, I headed to baggage claim, found the only place that served something I could eat (a low-quality slice of pizza, chips, and Sprite), and waited for Nell and Pam to pick me up.

They arrived, I gave Nell a hug, and it was off to the hotel. From her pictures, and knowing Nell's preferences for butcher women, I had expected Pam to be a kind of gruff, "woman of few words" type.

Not so.

She works as a tour guide, and was a fountain of information about Alaska. This was cool for the first hour or two. Then it was clear she was a compulsive talker, and given the long stretches of road we were on during the day and a half, it got wearing. Nell caught on by the second day, and I think had given Pam the directive to zip it after we were back on the highway after the ceremony, but that didn't do much good. I made the best of it, lightly chided Pam, and just flat out ignored her rambling at some points.

Joining the festivities was Pam's adorable eighty-year-old gay father, Charles, who was a hoot. He co-officiated the little ceremony with me at Talkeetna. Between him, Nell, Pam, and myself, we were all teared up at the end. You could tell when they were reading the vows that they weren't just repeating words after us, but feeling all of the emotions and experiences that had led them to there. So, her talkiness aside, I was exponentially glad that Pam and Nell had rediscovered one another.

The last day arrived, and I returned back to my beautiful Frisco Disco.

I used yesterday to take Shazaam to the vet where I learned he may have a stone and was overweight. They suggested I add canned food to his diet as the moisture will help with the digestion. I wish I had known this earlier on.

I took the day to also look at my current debt. I now have almost exactly the same debt as a I had a year and a half ago when I took out that mega loan to pay all of my credit cards. I was crestfallen to find out, but prompted to do so upon discovering I was nearing my max on many of my cards. I really didn't learn my lesson. Or it's that I've become so accustomed to a certain lifestyle. Even yesterday, between the cat's vet visit ($400), a hair cut ($52), moisturizer ($250), grocery shopping ($120), and alcohol and mixers ($75)--and yes, I even took the Muni to the stylist to save on cash--I couldn't believe how much I actually spend in a day's time.

So I applied for another mega loan from another company. It's approved, and I just got a call from them. I had been diverting a specific amount to paying off two cards and my mattress (which is now paid off), so I think I can manage the payments, and it's only for five years. And then I have to turn into Mr. Frugality, because I just don't think I'll get another shot.

I'd also had my heart set on taking my mom to England for her sixtieth birthday next year. I can put that on a card, then transfer the balance to a 0% interest plan for about a year, so that should be manageable.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we practice to be as bougie as can be.

Off to the (not so sunshine-y) state!

I leave at the absolute butt crack of dawn tomorrow for Alaska for my old boss's wedding. She promoted me into my position in a new division in the department, and provided two additional nice increases during the nearly nine years she managed me. We had some fun times, and I'm very happy that she's found her soulmate and been able to retire early.

As for it being in Alaska, I reckon it'll be something like "Northern Exposure" meets "Sex in the City." I did a Google maps view of the hotel, and there's, like, nothing around it. We're doing some sight-seeing tomorrow, so should be fun. Then the wedding's on Wednesday (very cazh), and I fly back Thursday at noon. I guess it may not be all that wacky and wild a time since it's in the boondocks, and there's no one I know besides my boss and her fiance in the wedding, but hey, we'll make the best of it. If anything, it hits the reset button, and I get out in nature for a wee bit.

I kind of wish I'd taken the Monday after I get back off, as I'll just have three days off (one of which is earmarked for Shazaam's vet visit and a much needed haircut), but we're gearing up for things at work, so it was not advisable.

I'm hoping to get baptized later this month. I've put it off long enough. I'm just worried that when I meet with the pastor (different from the head pastor who I'd already given the gay schpeel to a few months ago), that he'll hint at sexual sins, and I'll have to get into it. But this is something I've wanted to do, or maybe felt compelled to do. I don't know anymore. I keep wishing for some revelation that will push me over the line to feel that I *need* to do this.

Retirement age ain't nothin' but a numba

I worked from home today, and it was lovely. It involved sleeping in 'til about eleven, answering a few emails, and then largely completing a few personal tasks like washing the dishes, working out, dropping off pants to be sewn, cancelling my phone service, and scheduling a dentist appointment. I went to Trader Joe's, too, and it was beautiful out, and the store was virtually empty.

This is what I imagine retirement to be like. I suppose this kind of quaint simplicity may get wearing after awhile, but it's one of the things I think I'll relish when time comes.

And if that time comes in twelve years versus sixteen, I can only just imagine the joy, the exquisite joy!

I'm doubtful that I'll get any more windfall pay increases in the remainder of my career unless my serpentine VP eventually relents and promotes me to manager when my current manager retires, which I suspect will be sometime within the next ten years. And the early retirement may not mean I'll have enough to move to San Diego, but we'll see. Just thinking about it and knowing how quickly time flies now makes me happy.

Future forecast

I have today off because it's Independence Day (not that I'm feeling even remotely patriotic), but it's sort of idiotic because it's a Wednesday. As a result, I've decided to take off tomorrow and Friday, and pull in a five-dayer. I had planned for this about a month or so ago, and had hoped to fast for three days. But alas, that plan fell through, as I somewhat suspected it would, and will be replaced by cocktailing and YouTubing. I'm a little disappointed at this unsurprising turn of events, but am hoping God'll give me a pass on this one.

If nothing else, it certainly won't do wonders for my figure, which has ballooned up this year due to several of these little extended weekends. It might be best if I just powered through the remaining weeks of July without any more three-day weekends until Corrine's wedding in August. I've added more weights to my workout regime, but it's getting to the gym more than two days a week that's a challenge when my overall morale has been quite watered down.

I started thinking today about retirement, something never too far from my mind even though it's still sort of far away. What made me think about it was Justin Timberlake. I was watching a YT video (natch) of this dude and his mom at a club, and a remix of "Can't Stop the Music" was playing, and I thought to myself, Didn't that just come out last year? I looked it up, and lo, it came out two years ago this past May. I can specifically remember hearing it for the first time on the radio in an Uber on the way to work, and immediately looking it up on my phone.

That seems like it was just six or so months ago. My point, as I've always said before, is that the passage of time feels expedited when you're older.

Adding to this, I've always insisted I will stay in SF until the end of my days, loving the City as I do, and relishing in the benefit of living in a rent-controlled apartment. But today, I started toying with the idea of moving back to San Diego after retirement. I could take my pension, earned on SF market dollars, to a cheaper area of the state, and it might go further. Indeed, I may even be able to retire earlier. Heck, that was what Corrine did when she hightailed it to Alaska at fifty three. Plus, I would be near my sister and nephew, and my mom during her golden years. My high school chum Aaron plans to move back there after retirement as well, and Roula and Raina are there, too.

Then I actually started looking up apartments--of course in the more enviable areas like Kensington and downtown--and saw they were more than I was paying now. Even ones further inland were more.

Truly the housing crisis has even extended to the city I fled from like a bat outta hell.

Corrine joked with me more than once that once I got older, my affection for the City would likely diminish. As I see article after article about used needles on the street, and bags and suitcases of feces left on sidewalks, I can only wonder what my beloved City by the Bay will be like sixteen years from now.

Hey, two or three years ago, I wouldn't have imagined I'd call myself a Christian. Contemplating myself as a citizen of San Diego in the distant future doesn't seem too far off considering.

Morose Mondays: June 25, 2018 edition

With the forced change of my title at work, joined by the fact that I only got a satisfactory rating on my performance evaluation and the new girl was hired at a salary almost the same as my own, I've had a few realizations:

1) Since I'm not the boss anymore, that means I'm not ultimately accountable for my whole unit. In a sense, I make out alright since I'm still at the same pay, with less overall responsibility. Granted, I've been assigned more clients with this change, but if the shiz hits the fan in any way, I just escalate away to my manager.

2) If I look purely at experience in the role, I technically only have three years more experience than New Girl. I don't think that should only account for a differential of 54 cents or whatever it is, but there will be a merit this year, and I'm hoping that will edge me up a bit more so it's not so offensive. Plus, I must remember, I'm thrilled with what I make. I never would have thought I would make this much money, so looking at it purely from that perspective, I can't complain.

So although there's this haze of depression that's sort of hovering over me, I take these facts into account.

Trying to rebound back into a slimmer figure has proven more of a challenge. I was getting dressed for church Sunday, and just couldn't stomach any of my shirts due to my protruding stomach, so I settled on brown pants and a black shirt. Easily the most inconspicuous and colorless I've dressed in ages.

So out I go, when I notice colorfully dressed gays, and then a girl with a rainbow flat in her backpack, and lo and behold, it was Pride. And there I was dressed like a fucking Quaker on my way to church. I had honestly thought it was next week, and had talked with Leia about possibly going as her work was going to have a float.

My sister posted a picture of a get together at her house with her quasi-estranged father's side of the family. I was surprised to see them all together. These were people who were a part of my life when my mom and stepdad were together. They even ran the local community theatre, and I had some lovely times working the lights and even starring in a few productions. I commented my joy at seeing them all together again, and even added them on Facebook, which they all accepted. Lovely thing.

Morose Mondays, June 12, 2018 edition

I was looking through some old pictures on Facebook when, of course, I stumbled upon some from when Collette lived with me. It was a fun time, and we would have her friends over, who later became mine. And her brother visited us a few times as well, once for his birthday. There we are, doing shots in her room, and I look at the date it was taken: July 12, 2008.

I couldn't believe it. How in the hell was that ten years ago next month.

It gave me some degree of comfort to see that I hadn't aged much, potentially looked even better (though a bit chubbier now in the face due to over-partaking of cocktails recently). Gotta look at the friggin' bright side when I can here.

Saturday night, Raina and I went to see "The Empire Strips Back," a "Star Wars" burlesque parody. It was plenty entertaining, though I wish there had been more dudes and that I'd been a bit more soused to enjoy it. That qualifies as my one cultural event for the month, so good for me.

And now I need to find another one. I'd really like to get in that one a month event so that another ten years doesn't pass by, and I wonder where the hell it all went.

Oh, what a whirl, what a whirl

My stature at work seems to continue to diminish as my new boss, who is lovely in many ways, has decided to laterally reclassify my position from a supervisor to a lead. No change in pay, but it's a more accurate reflection of what I do since my power as a people manager has been usurped out from under me. In addition, I'm getting more client departments, which I had shed upon taking the supervisor role so I could focus on the strategic/advisory part of my job.

To add to this, she also hired a new analyst who's a friend of hers and fourteen years my junior with just four years of experience, and is paying her almost exactly what I make, and more than the other two more seasoned analysts. This only slightly makes sense when you look at market for our positions and the fact that we have a merit program forthcoming, but I also got myself just a satisfactory performance rating instead of a more than satisfactory rating, so I'm not looking at anything generous in terms of a raise.

I try to just remain grateful for the fact that I'm still well paid, and at the halfway point of my professional career. My VP just doesn't see me as a people manager, so even when my boss retires, my chances are slim to none of being promoted. So we'll just coast along at the current pace. At the risk of being snarky, I guess I'm just there for a paycheck!

I need to get back in the game with working out. And this includes stopping the sauce intake on weekdays, which I had been so good about for so long, but after a handful of events that lent themselves to it, I partook on a Monday or Thursday--at it shows. I miss that period in my early thirties where I maintained the diet I always had and just ground myself to the bone with cardio, and lost weight. Now that just ends up grounding me into the ground with exhaustion, so I have to follow the eighty/twenty rule of what accounts for your weight is eighty percent what you eat, not your exercise routine.

If there's something that would lend itself to slimming down, it's my old boss's wedding in Alaska two and a half months from now. It's apparently going to be relatively small. Seems like a lot of people are unable or unwilling to make the trek, which makes me kind of sad for her. But she's thrilled I'm coming, and I wouldn't miss the chance to see the happily ever after for someone who was so good to me.

Tifferbee and I are seeing "The Empire Strips Back," a "Star Wars" burlesque parody in two weeks. Should be fun, and it'll be the first time I've been to the Warfield. I told myself some time back that I would try to do at least one adventurous/cultural thing a month, so gotta get back on track with that, too.

For now, I'm having one last hurrah for May with a four-day Memorial Day weekend, starting off with a viewing of "The Avengers: Infinity War" followed by a deep dive into a cocktail glass as per my wont.

Relax, do do it

The past couple of weeks have been incredibly--almost dangerously--chill. Although we were amping up for a major initiative at work, my part of it was in check, and my regular workload was completely manageable.

"So why haven't you been offering to help out your co-workers, you lazy bastard?!?" I did, and have basically been covering for one of my analysts for the past week and a half.

With the relaxed work environment, I've been working from home about a day a week the last three weeks. Unfortunately, the day at home turns into cocktail time, which is supposed to be forbidden during the week. But Rachelle and her husband were in town mid-April, so I had to take them to Osha and Top of the Mark, and then it was like, "Well, if I already drank on Monday..."

The aforementioned major initiative resulted in us having to work twelve, sixteen, nearly twenty four hour days in some cases. The weekend before it, I had already skipped church because I desperately needed to sleep in, and then skipped it again this past weekend, so I haven't had that feeling of being spiritually refreshed in awhile. I watched a video from Nathan Wheeler, the guy who's near death experience convinced me to become a Christian, and he talked again about the importance of reading the Bible, and said we should do so everyday. So I'm trying to get back on track with that as well.

I also did not work out at all last week due to that initiative. I had intended to go today, but after taking a nap after work, I just didn't have it in me. I did work out at home, but I can feel the flab gathering in places unmentionable, so I have to snap back into shape with that shit, too. I had also been intending to increase my weights by another five pounds, but since I have to reignite my efforts after slacking off for a week, that probably won't be for awhile. Argh!

The thing is, I deserve some chill time. Granted, it'd be better spent not just drinking and playing video games, but I am not inclined to grind myself to the bone. It's been a year now since my former boss retired, and I know I wouldn't have this relaxed of a work environment if she was still here, love her though I do. And since I didn't get promoted into the manager role, I'm just rollin' with it as time goes on.

Sigh times

I entered into the holy Easter weekend with the best of intentions: traveled up to Noe Valley for a scenic power walk, went to church, vacuumed the apartment, and meal prepped for the week. Then Colette came over Sunday and muffed everything up. Luckily, I'm recovered--remarkably well so, in fact. Those Perricone super greens powder drinks and multi-vitamins really are amazing. But it's not exaaaactly how I'd intended to spend my first actual Easter as a practicing Christian.

If there was something good that could have come out of this, it was that I had to call in sick Tuesday, and I used that whole day to sleep. And sleep. And sleep. It must be a combination of heavy cardio at the gym and age, but I must truly have been underslept because I really felt so much more rested and refreshed when I went back to work.

A week or so ago, my old boss texted me to say she and her partner are getting married. Hooray! It means a trip up to Alaska for the wedding. I'd been desperately trying to travel somewhere for some sort of vaycay that wasn't just Christmas, so I guess this'll be it. It's in August. I'm still keeping Santorini in my back pocket and planning for Reno at some point, but I do need to keep finances sane in prep for the trip to England next year.

I also got a FB message from half-sister Laura informing me she was pregnant. She had also told me this several years back, but nothing ever seemed to have came of it. I assume she may have lost it. I'm always a bit worried about her. Her husband has been abusive, and she has the look of someone who if functionally anorexic. She had always told me that if she ever did have a child, she would ask me to be the godfather. It's quite a commitment, but I'd be up to it since I do love her, and the rest of her family seems to have abandoned her. It would also entail a trip to visit her and the new baby sooner as opposed to later.

Morose Mondays, March 5 Edition

I'm titling these little blogs I make on Mondays thusly because they're the first day back from work after what is usually a delightfully inebriated whirl of a weekend, and by the time night falls, my mindset has gone from one of crickety malaise to maudlin melancholy.

Do you realize we are nearly through the 2010s? There was a lifetime packed into my '90s. All of high school and college, every year of which--every semester of which--felt like a novel in a series. And my 2000s were packed with plenty of intrigue as well.

I was almost going to add, "At least until about 2008," which was when I got my first big promotion, and started (sort of) living on Easy Street, but even then, I had my little dalliance with Gideon in 2009, now nearly ten years ago.

Yes, I've changed, but in that almost imperceptible way that only I might notice, or someone who hadn't seem me in over a decade might notice. Certainly the Christian thing is new, and still surprising to some people when I happen to mention going to church. It still surprises me at times.

It's just amazing to think that another decade will have passed by after the end of next year. And I'm not entirely sure how to characterize my 2010s.

A lady in my church group mentioned a quote that was something to the effect of, "Life is lived forward, but understood backwards." That for sure as shiz is true. Morose Mondays, March 5 Edition

If you wanna boogie

David Harness was spinning at the End Up Sunday night for a new party called Boogie, and my black ass actually got out of the house and went. I don't know if I actually caught him spinning, but it was the funky house of the sort I like, and what appeared to be a mostly straight, househead type crowd, which I can get down with. One of the bartenders was a former longtime barback I recognized. Absent was the bald lesbian who I always tipped well and who always tended to me. I didn't stay very long, but long enough to have some fun.

And as always seems to be the case when I go out clubbing, my chubbiness appeared to dissipate slightly the next day due to the aerobic activity. Nice.

I've been trying to get Leah to take a trip to NYC with me, and she was going to bring along one of her friends. That was over a week ago, and I've not heard back. I'm just desperate for a vaycay, and my tax refund will cover most of it

I had to skip my church group this evening because today was my Monday after a lovely four-day weekend. Much as I'd hoped to get out of the house, I only got as far as taking a shower on Monday, and then coating myself in my PJs to play video games. Speaking of, I'd intended to give up video games for lent, but the bloomin' thing came up on me before I knew it. Much like I'd intended to try for Cocktail-free February again this year, and that was bust. But I have been participating in the forty days of prayer my church is promoting, with a new prayer texted to us every morning. A nice way to start the day.

Tally ho!

Bougierella Enterprises, LLC

I just finished "It" after what I think was easily over six months ago when I started it in preparation for the release of the movie. The mini-series in '90 scared the tar out of me as a twelve-year-old, and was like nothing I'd ever seen. I remember my friend Chuck reading it at school, and saw the title of one of the chapters, "The Ritual of Chüd," and remember thinking the book must've been even way crazier than the TV series. But it certainly remained plastered to my mind all these years.

I actually bought the book at a secondhand store probably some ten years ago, but had been too intimidated by its size and kind of scared at its content to tackle it. I'd loved Stephen King novels as a kid, so intricate and full of great storytelling, as well as being impactfully frightening. As I dove into it, already knowing the basic premise, it didn't have nearly the same impact as the mini-series, unsurprisingly so. Nineteen fifty movie monsters aren't as apt to terrify a child of the nineties. Like one of the primary story arcs, the bridge between childhood and adulthood had been crossed, and so reading "It" the novel was more like looking back at a gauzy, distant past, recollecting the actors who played the Losers Club in the TV series playing out the actual events in the source material. Still a good, interesting read. I know this because after I was done, I felt like I needed a good hug.

I joined the Crazy Love group at church, a group focused on God's amazing love. Sounds all butterflies and hearts, but when I went the first time, I left with an icky feeling. As an icebreaker, one of the co-leads broke out one of those novelty book of questions, and when it came one person's turn, asked if she would marry someone more attractive then she. After her answer, the co-lead said, "I wanna hear from the guys!" and so the one guy answered, and then I did, saying, "Heck, yeah!" Her laughing response was, "A trophy wife, huh?"

And I didn't correct her and say, "No, a trophy husband."

It's just weird to think this newfound faith of mine comes with a possibility of being around people who may not accept my sexuality, something I've been cool with for more than half my life. As intrinsic a part of me as the organs in my body and the skin over my bones. It's just there, and I just can't imagine considering it might not be such a good thing.

So after a day or two of rumination, I realized that I had to take a step back. There are Christians who are cool with gays, and Christians who are not. I wish this particular church took an outward position on the matter, but that's sort of why it's like "Christianity for Beginners" in that they just focus more on the good stuff while hinting at the hard stuff--which this same co-lead said would be coming in later chapters of the book we are reading. Gee, I can't wait.

The idea that this was just some sort of experiment crossed my mind. It gave me momentary comfort and allowed me to step outside of the situation, and re-center myself. But it also distanced me from moving in closer to my faith. That seems like the work of something a little more sinister than a little self-doubt.

So while I'm momentarily a little shaken, I'll let the Lord guide me, not necessarily the words of those who seek to follow Him. They're just like me. And besides which, the second group last night went much better, and I left on a good note.

Aaron and Gomez came into town last weekend, and we did "Beach Blanket Babylon" and had a surprisingly sub-par dinner in North Beach afterwards.

Veelishis will be in town in April with her hubby, so I will find somewhere new to dine and drink, and hang.

I've upped my weights by five pounds in an effort to make some advancements at the gym. One of the workout advice video series I watch on YouTube reminded me that the body acclimates quickly. So, we've got to keep pushing. I felt like I had been injected with Novocaine that week, but am sure I will get used to it. The plan is to then keep increasing by five pounds every month or two months.

I cannot seem to lose the holiday weight to save my life, and looking at my Santa-esque profile after so many months of meal-prepping is depressing. But it took a lot of time to slim down, so will likely take a long time again to get back to a more acceptable silhouette. Being forty does not help the matter.

I have a jam-packed day tomorrow with so much to get done, but am looking forward to another lovely four-day weekend. Barring any Novocaine-esque post-workout exhaustion, here's to hoping I get outside and enjoy a little sunshine.

Attack of the past, flood of the future

Last week, I had dinner with two retirees from my job, and three co-workers. Everyone was in their sixties save for one person who was a few years old than I. Retirement is something I've been thinking about since pretty much day one of entering the professional workforce (and something my company has been really good about framing), and after this year, I'll be just over the halfway point provided all goes as planned.

One of the other things forty has brought into perspective is that I can know recollect times in twenty year chunks. I have my ol' LiveJournal here to take me back to how things were going ten years ago, but alas, I threw out my old journals from my teenage- and college days some years ago.
In 1998, I would've been in my junior year, living with a trio of girls right next to campus, and unfortunately, starting what would be a period of speed dependency that would take me into next year. I had started a relationship with this guy I'd been introduced to who worked at a local movie theatre, and who wasn't particularly attractive, but I had desperately wanted to have sex.

In addition to the speed dependency, I was also in a politically correct phase, and completely missed the come ons by curious straight guys--an egregious oversight of the past if ever there was one. It was a short-lived relationships, three months, I believe, and as the months would progress, my dissatisfaction with Santa Barbara and boredom of life in general would be countered by that delightful powdery substance. Needless to say, it made me persona non grata among my roommates, and by the end of the school year, I would be moving out.

In addition to working at the radio station, I had jobs in the audio visual department, a coffee shop, and the dining commons, the last three of which I eventually got canned from for missing too many shifts. This dropped my income down, but I still managed through courtesy of those lovely school loan checks--which I am still paying off to this day.

The year would get much more interesting as I entered into my senior year in the fall and turned twenty one, but we'll leave that for later on this year.